TSWPF – Chapter 12 Bitter Tears

“Village Chief Grandpa, I didn’t want to do this either. I was forced into it.” Li Qingling lowered her head, looking as if she were about to cry but was holding it in.

Reputation? Compared to life, what did that even matter?

Hearing that, the village chief sighed again and looked at Li Qingling and her mother’s small family of three with pity. The older Old Li got, the more muddle-headed he became. The chief thought to himself—one day, Old Li would regret everything he’d done.

“Still, you should be careful. Hurting others or yourself wouldn’t be good.” Family conflicts were the hardest to mediate. Even as the village chief, there was little he could do beyond offering a few words of advice.

Li Qingling didn’t want to talk much more. She only nodded.

She knew that if something like this happened again, she’d still do the same thing.

The chief shook his head, reminded them again to be cautious, and then left with his hands clasped behind his back.

Once he was gone, Li Qingling finally exhaled and looked toward her mother. Her tone was soft and full of concern. “Mom, does it hurt a lot?”

She could feel how much her mother had tried to protect her.

Madam Zhao shook her head, gazing at her two children. Seeing the swelling on their foreheads, her heart ached terribly. She reached out and gently touched Li Qingling’s bruise.  “It’s Mother’s fault. I didn’t protect you two well enough.”

If she had been fiercer, her mother-in-law and the others wouldn’t have dared to come bully them like that.

“Mom, what are you saying? As long as you’re safe, that’s the best protection for me and little brother.” Her mother was still pregnant. If something happened to her, she and her brother would really become orphans.

Those comforting words made Madam Zhao’s tears fall even faster, but her heart felt warm. Ever since her husband died, her daughter had seemed to grow up overnight, becoming the pillar of their little family.

“All right, all right, don’t cry anymore. Crying too much isn’t good for the baby.” Li Qingling reached out to wipe away her mother’s tears and softly comforted her, “Next time Grandma and Aunt try to pick a fight again, you have to be tougher. If you act strong, they won’t be able to bully you.”

After going through this sort of thing enough times, her mother—the ever-yielding “bun” type—would hopefully start to stand up for herself.

If she still couldn’t… well, Qingling would be speechless.

Once Madam Zhao finally stopped crying, Li Qingling fetched a basin of water so the three of them could wash their faces.

Just as she poured out the dirty water, Liu Zhimou ran in, drenched in sweat. Seeing the bump on her forehead, he pursed his lips and handed her a small bottle. “This ointment will help with the swelling. Take it.”

Putting the basin away, Li Qingling didn’t refuse and accepted it directly, thanking him.

If he hadn’t gone to fetch the village chief, Old Li wouldn’t have left so quickly.

“Next time something like this happens, call me. Don’t try to shoulder it all yourself.”

He had seen her standing at the door with a knife, ready to protect her mother and brother, and it made his heart ache. She was still so young, yet already had to defend her family.

Li Qingling looked at him and gave a faint smile. “When you’re dealing with people like my grandma and my aunt, you have to be even fiercer and more shameless than they are. You…”—she gave him a once-over—“…you don’t have it in you. You don’t know how to argue.”

Liu Zhimou’s face immediately flushed red, but he still stammered out that she should call him next time something happened.

Seeing how persistent he was, Li Qingling nodded. Since someone wanted to help her, she had no reason to refuse.

Liu Zhimou glanced at her one last time and turned to leave—but his wrist was suddenly grabbed. When he looked back, his eyes met hers.

“Don’t go yet. I have something to tell you.” Li Qingling released his hand and gestured for him to come inside.

Puzzled, he followed her in.

“Sit down for a bit,” she said.

Then she opened the ointment bottle, scooped some onto her hand, and gently applied it to Madam Zhao’s cheek. “This is from Brother Zhimou—it’ll help with the swelling,” she explained.

Feeling the cool sensation on her face, Madam Zhao looked at Liu Zhimou and thanked him softly.

Though his parents were gone, Liu Zhimou himself was a good boy. If her daughter married him in the future, they would likely live a peaceful and harmonious life.

Liu Zhimou murmured, “You’re welcome,” but his gaze lingered thoughtfully on Li Qingling as she busied herself.

“Wait—” Madam Zhao stopped her daughter just as she finished applying medicine to Li Qingfeng’s bruise. She poured some ointment onto her own hand and dabbed it onto Qingling’s forehead. “You, you forgot yourself again.”

Li Qingling smiled. Once her mother was done, she capped the bottle and handed it back to Liu Zhimou.

But he didn’t take it. “You keep it. Use it a few more times—it’ll go down faster.”

After thinking for a moment, Li Qingling nodded and put the ointment away.

“Mom, did you send the wild chicken to Brother Zhimou?” she asked. When she got back from the market earlier, she hadn’t had time to ask before Liu-shi came over causing trouble.

Madam Zhao nodded. “I had Qingfeng bring it over.”

At the mention of the wild chicken and the fish, Liu Zhimou’s eyes flickered. “Sister Ling, that wild chicken…” The mountains near their village didn’t have much game, let alone fat wild pheasants like that.

Where had she gotten it from?

“Qingfeng, go sit outside. If anyone comes, call out,” Li Qingling instructed her brother, turning serious.

She didn’t want others to know there was game in Song Mountain. Once word spread, there’d be nothing left for her.

People were selfish by nature. Her family was already dirt-poor—she had to look out for them first.

But Liu Zhimou was her fiancé and had always been kind to them, so she wanted to bring him in on it.

Qingfeng nodded and ran outside, sitting by the courtyard gate.

Seeing how cautious she was, Liu Zhimou’s expression grew solemn.

“Brother Zhimou, the reason I stopped you is because I wanted to talk about the wild chicken.” Li Qingling sat down, meeting his gaze. “After I tell you, you must keep it secret.”

“Of course…” he said. He wasn’t some saint who’d go spreading it around.

Knowing that Liu Zhimou was steady and reliable, Li Qingling relaxed. “A few days ago, I went to Song Mountain. I confirmed there’s food there. I’m telling you because I wanted to ask if you’d come with me next time.”

Song Mountain?

He’d heard of it—it was far from here. He hadn’t expected that she’d been bold enough to go there alone. His heart clenched. All this, just because her family was too poor.

“I’ll go. When are we going?” he asked immediately. His family was in debt; without opportunities like this, how else could they repay it?

Li Qingling thought for a moment. “In a few days. I just got back last night. I need to rest first.”  Her body was too frail—if she didn’t rest properly, she might collapse, and then her struggling family would crumble with her.

Liu Zhimou nodded, asked a few questions about Song Mountain, and then finally left with a clearer understanding.

As soon as he was gone, Madam Zhao’s voice wavered with worry. “Xiaoling, Mother doesn’t agree to you going again. We still have food at home—it’s enough to last until the autumn harvest.”

Song Mountain was dangerous. One misstep, and you might never return. The last time her daughter went, Madam Zhao hadn’t slept for two nights, terrified that she’d never see her again. She truly didn’t want her daughter to go back.

Li Qingling looked at her mother’s pregnant belly, bit her lip, and shook her head firmly. “Mom, I have to go. We need to find a way to survive. We can’t live off our thin patch of land forever.”

In a time when they depended on heaven for food—if the heavens ever turned cruel and the harvest failed—they’d all be doomed.

She had been reborn into this frail body, so she would shoulder its responsibilities. She had to fight—for her family’s future.

“What do you mean we can’t? We’ve lived this long, haven’t we?” Madam Zhao’s tears fell again. “Mother will make more woven pouches to sell. That’ll be enough to feed you and Qingfeng.”

Her husband was already gone—if she lost her eldest daughter too, how could she go on? The fear she’d felt during those two days of waiting had nearly broken her. She couldn’t go through it again.

Li Qingling lowered her head, twisting the corner of her clothes. Her heart ached, but she still had to speak.

“After paying taxes, how much grain do we even have left? Even if we drink porridge every day, it’ll only last three or four months. If there’s a bad harvest, we won’t even have that.” Her words were heavy—so heavy that Madam Zhao’s tears couldn’t stop. “Look at Qingfeng—he’s so small and skinny. If he doesn’t eat properly, how will he grow? And you— baby is almost due. That’ll be another mouth to feed. With the grain we have, how can we feed four people?”

Li Qingling sighed deeply, exhausted. She hated arguing with her mother about whether to go or not, but she couldn’t ignore Madam Zhao’s worries either.

“Mom, don’t worry. I’ve already been there once and I know the area now. I won’t go deep into the mountains, so nothing will happen.”

Madam Zhao buried her face in her arms and began to sob uncontrollably. Li Qingling could only stand there, not knowing how to comfort her.

“Sister, Mom… what’s wrong with Mom?” Hearing his mother cry, Li Qingfeng ran inside, panic written all over his little face.

Li Qingling patted his head and gave a weary smile. She didn’t know how to explain.

“Go comfort her, tell her not to cry. I’ll make dinner.”

After telling him that, Li Qingling went to the kitchen, feeling unbearably heavy-hearted.

She distractedly washed a pot and was about to rinse the rice when she heard someone calling outside.

She quickly set the pot down and went out to see who it was—it was the village chief’s wife. Li Qingling greeted her with a smile. “Granny Zhou, please come in and sit.”

Madam Zhou entered the courtyard, heard Madam Zhao crying inside, and sighed quietly. But her face remained kind as she handed Li Qingling a basket. “There’s plenty of vegetables at home. I brought you some.”

Inside were cabbages and green beans. Li Qingling smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Granny Zhou.” She took out the vegetables and handed the basket back.

“You should talk to your mother—crying too much hurts the body. Life may be hard, but it’ll get better little by little,” Madam Zhou said kindly. “I’ve got chores waiting at home. If you ever need vegetables, come pick some from my garden.”

“Thank you, Granny Zhou. Take care!” Li Qingling watched her leave, then turned back into the kitchen. Looking at the fresh vegetables, her heart felt a faint warmth.